


popping candy

by versipelle



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Dessert & Sweets, Established Relationship, First Kiss, Food Sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-07
Updated: 2013-05-06
Packaged: 2017-12-10 15:39:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/787674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/versipelle/pseuds/versipelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You are sheltered, Derek,” Stiles replies, and thrusts the packet out in front of him. “Popping candy. It’s amazing. My dad thinks I shouldn't have it, no matter how many times I've told him sugar does nothing to encourage hyperactivity.” He dips in a finger, throws some on his tongue and shuts his mouth and the noise starts again, but Derek is prepared, and he shuts it out enough that he can still breathe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Derek is not having the best day when Stiles arrives.

Isaac and Erica decided to cross territory to chase away an omega, even though he’d swear he’d told them several times exactly where the boundaries lay. So now he had to deal with that bastard Deucalion, alpha of the neighbours he detested, who’d taken Jackson from him and made him one of their own. He’s angry, and he has every right to be, but not with Stiles even though usually he does have a reason there.

Stiles has never stopped being infuriating, but he has stopped being somebody that Derek wants to avoid at all costs, and he’s most definitely turned into somebody Derek would like to know a lot better. In many ways.

But he’s angry, and when Stiles comes in he’s practically deafened, the wolf in him howling through his innards at the horrible noise emanating from, well, Derek doesn’t know where it’s coming from. So he snaps, his temper reaching it’s admittedly very low limit.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

Stiles looks shocked at first, then his face falls into a frown and Derek is already regretting his words.

“I’m sorry,” he says, “that noise. It’s horrendous.”

“What noise?” Stiles mumbles, and when his mouth opens the noise becomes a million times louder and he’s actually forced to crouch down on the floor from the pain. He can feel his eyes turning scarlet, squeezes them shut until all he sees are shooting stars across a night sky, sending messages to his ears to turn that fucking noise down already.

“Oh,” Stiles swallows and Derek instinctively opens his eyes to watch his throat bob, the noise having vanished in an instant as he did so. He lingers over the soft skin there, remembers touching it with his fingers once when Stiles had got scraped across it with a claw. It had been the worst night of Derek’s life, watching Stiles bleed out from his throat, thinking he was going to die without knowing Derek thought the world of him. But even after that, he hadn’t said anything, convincing himself that Stiles would never get hurt again. Avoiding the truth. “You meant the Pop Rocks?”

Stiles looks at him questioningly as he speaks, no doubt noticing the way Derek’s eyes trail along the length of his neck like a river winds through the valleys in search of the ocean. Stiles was his ocean, and he wanted to be lost at sea.

“The what?”

He struggles to form words, and just watches as Stiles pulls out a brightly coloured packet from his jeans pocket. His fingers fold over the paper and Derek wants them to fold over him. He mentally shakes himself, forcing himself to act normal. All this stuff with the neighbours was sending him crazy.

“You are sheltered, Derek,” Stiles replies, and thrusts the packet out in front of him. “Popping candy. It’s amazing. My dad thinks I shouldn’t have it, no matter how many times I’ve told him sugar does nothing to encourage hyperactivity.” He dips in a finger, throws some on his tongue and shuts his mouth and the noise starts again, but Derek is prepared, and he shuts it out enough that he can still breathe.

“Oo theem ine thith time,” Stiles garbles through the noise.

“I am,” he replies, “sort of. I’ve never seen that stuff before.”

“Oo’ve go to thry thome,” Stiles says and walks over to him, leans forward to offer him the packet, and Derek can see the red tinge to his fingers. “Thrawberry,” Stiles smiles, and the same red tinge is around his lips and christ almighty he can’t control this. He leans forward, collides his mouth with Stiles in desperation, runs his tongue alongside Stiles’s and feels some of the candy touch against his tongue, pulls back and feels a thousand tiny sparks against his palette. He goes to pull away, regretful of his inability to control himself, when Stiles pushes forward, pushes more candy into his mouth with his tongue, his tastebuds exploding with strawberry and Stiles and a constant snap boom slam sensation that is without doubt the greatest feeling he’s ever experienced.

They slowly relax away from each other, a few lingering pops still bursting to be heard, but Derek can’t focus on anything other than Stiles’s face. His eyes are stretched wide, an open-mouthed smile etched on his face, and even when he regains composure and begins to speak, the smile is still there like it’s become a permanent fixture.

“That was...” he says, breathless. “There are more flavours. You want to try any more?”

Derek frowns in confusion, and Stiles laughs at him joyously, like a father watching a child’s first steps.

“I thought the implication was obvious,” he says finally. “I would very much like to do that again. Have I made myself clear this time?” His ears tinge pink, and Derek replies with another kiss.

“Absolutely.”

“Watermelon.”

“I assume that’s-”

“Yes, another flavour.”

“Watermelon can wait,” he replies. “I just want more thrawberry,” mimicking Stiles, puffing out his cheeks like a hamster, and Stiles laughs and frowns together.

“You can have all the strawberry you like,” he says, and grabs his shirt and pulls him forward, and everything he’d been worrying about vanished, each burden weighing on his mind having popped as well. Fuck Deucalion and his stupid-ass ego problem. Fuck his wayward betas. He finally had his guy, and he couldn’t be happier.


	2. Chapter 2

“Do you remember our first kiss?”

Derek’s still in bed. Stiles has just walked in from his early morning shift and after looking disgruntled at his lazy-ass werewolf boyfriend, had sat on the end of the bed with a mysterious bag that he’d left just out of view. His shirt was slightly open, knowing full well Derek had a thing for that little patch of chest hair, ‘that little bit of wolf’ as he called it, since it had only appeared after the two of them had got together.

That was over two years ago, and he still remembered every minute detail of it.

“Of course, it was the day before we got Jackson back, because they were sick of him and they were willing to do anything to get rid of him, including forgiving us our trespassers.”

“Dude, don’t mention Jackson and the Lord’s prayer together, we’ll get smited, lightning bolts will hit this house with unbridled fury and I like it here. And that’s the only reason you remember our first kiss? I’m seriously hurt.”

“Of course not. It was the best damn thing that ever happened to me, how could I forget?”

“Derek,” Stiles said happily, flinging himself on top while still managing to keep the bag in his hand, and out of view. Derek wondered when he’d managed to get so graceful, or as close to graceful as you could call this.

“What is in that bag?”

Stiles looked triumphant, like he’d been waiting for Derek to break before whatever was going on could begin.

“What do you think?” He brought the bag up, a confectioners, and Derek knew.

“Seriously?” he laughed. “You’re crazy.”

“Crazy for you,” Stiles replied, pulling out several bags of Pop Rocks and scattering them across the bed. “I thought we could have a little recreation.”

Derek’s wordless reply was to rip open the nearest packet in an instant, and flick a few small bits at Stiles playfully.

“Oh, you’re in for it now,” Stiles says, sliding out of his trousers in one skilful move that he definitely didn’t have at the start of their relationship, and then throws himself under the covers, his foot gently pulling at Derek’s boxer briefs. His hand reaches in the packet of Pop Rocks, and he grins.

“Thrawberry!” he exclaims, and flings them into his mouth and then plants it on Derek’s. It’s the same sensation, a glorious heady brew of fruit and flesh and fireworks against his tongue, and he can’t help but wonder why the hell they took so long to redo this. The whole time they’ve been together has been fantastic, but this, this is the pinnacle, the thing he always thinks about if he has even a second of doubt about them being an ‘us’ and it brings him back, reminds him of the absolute best they can be and how much he’s achieved since that day. He moans gently into Stiles’s mouth, pressing his tongue against his top lip as Stiles’s snaps along the bottom of his.

Stiles leans down and runs his tongue around his nipple while the Pop Rocks still linger on his tongue, and god he didn’t think this was possible. He doesn’t even wait for Stiles to pull down his underwear, dragging it down one leg with the other, forcing Stiles’s arm down until he’s rubbing his hand against his dick, lets go and lets Stiles take over.

He puts his mouth against Stiles’s neck, sucks in gently, not wanting to leave too much of a mark after Stiles’s boss complained about the state of his hickeys last weekend. Stiles pulls away, gives a low laugh, tells him to behave before running his tongue slowly down his stomach and onto his dick. Derek pulls down Stiles’s boxers, reaches in, pumps his hand roughly, forcing Stiles to moan down his shaft, the breath firing him up, and he knows it won’t take much today, not after this.

Stiles is an expert at getting him off, and barely five minutes go by before he can feel the urge in him building, he’s almost reached the plateau of no return, when Stiles pulls off him with a satisfied grin.

“What the hell?” he says, and Stiles’s grin rivals that of the Cheshire Cat.

He throws more popping candy in his mouth, and before Derek can register anything, Stiles’s mouth is back around his dick and **holy fuck** he thinks his brain might seep out of his ears. He hits the plateau almost instantly, his head positively alive with endless crackles and he knows that this would probably be painful to Stiles, knows he can handle this because of what he is, and thanks god for it because this is the most brilliantly intense feeling he’s ever had. The moment he comes, he lets out an unearthly moan, and he can feel Stiles’s smile around him.

He didn’t even know he’d been pushing upwards until his body collapsed against the sheets, Stiles pulling his head from under the covers, looking thrilled.

“You like?” he said. “I like.”

“I like too,” he replied, feeling like two Neanderthals. “I like very much.”

“Popping spunk is definitely different,” Stiles says thoughtfully, and Derek laughs so hard he thinks he might pull a muscle, assuming there are any left to pull.

“God, I love you,” Derek replies, panting. “But save that for special occasions, I don’t want a sex-related death.”

“I do,” Stiles replies, “so keep trying or I’ll be majorly disappointed when it doesn’t happen. Oh, and I love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't even know what this is.


End file.
